by Matt Larkin
“No!” Poli‘ahu shrieked once more. “You cannot touch this peak!”
The avalanche lurched like a wave changing direction in the sea, an inexplicable reordering of the tides. It surged for Pele, opening upon her like the maw of a one of Poli‘ahu’s benthic monstrosities, hungry.
Pele screamed, though she couldn’t hear it over the roar of crashing snow and breaking rock.
In desperation, she curled into a ball, throwing up coils of flame around herself. A mountain worth of snow crashed overhead, sizzling into steam as it struck her fiery arcs. Fragile protection that would crumble under the weight of the torrent bearing down upon her.
She’d be buried alive, as Poli‘ahu had nearly done on their first meeting. Only this time, the Snow Queen would make certain to finish the job.
A surge of panic clenched her chest.
Would this be her end, at last? After everything?
With one hand, she held the flaming arcs overhead, straining to keep the snow off her as more and more of the powder flowed above her in a river. The other hand she pushed into the earth, feeding mana once more. Splitting herself might well kill her, but …
The mountain rocked, shaking not only from the avalanche, but from the magma she summoned beneath. Rising in a crescendo she felt more than heard, until the surface could sustain no more and cracked. A fissure directly beneath her ripped apart, dropping her into a void. She fell once more, a cascade of ice and snow pitching down with her, only to sizzle away as it pitched into a river of previously concealed magma.
Pele landed on the lava surface and called upon its power, sending herself skidding forward as if on a surfboard. Molten geysers erupted around herself, obliterating much of the snow that tried to claim her, transforming it into hissing curtains.
But this channel couldn’t hold out for long—if she dove beneath the surface, it would carry her to spaces without air where she’d suffocate. Instead, she directed the flow against the mountainside. Magma bubbled up, cracked rock, and split the peak. The lava fountained outward in a cataract, Pele desperately sucking on the vestiges of its mana to reinforce her body as she fell what looked a hundred feet.
A drawn-out instant of breathless free falling, lava streaming down around her but unable to support her. A rising fear, wondering if even this final ploy would be enough to take her out of Poli‘ahu’s reach.
And the chill seizing her as too much mana fled from her.
39
It was almost midnight. Why the sisters had insisted on meeting her now, out on the open slope of Mauna Kea, Poli‘ahu could not say. But she climbed, making her way near the summit. Did they hope to somehow restore her stolen power at the very peak of this mountain?
Or did Lilinoe know?
Did she realize what Pahulu had at last shown Poli‘ahu?
The moon was clear overhead, illuminating a fog bank circling the lower mountain below. Up here she could see over the fog, far out to where she imagined Puna would lie. Pele’s kingdom.
Pele, the reincarnated soul of one of Lilinoe’s sister queens. Had Lilinoe known that all along? Had she encouraged the war between dynasties knowing the opposition would be led by her former allies?
Pele and Namaka did not come here for decades after your war had begun.
No … but Kapo had, and she too had been a queen of Old Mu. And Lilinoe and Waiau had driven Poli‘ahu’s lust for vengeance against the Kahikians.
We tried to make you strong.
From the fog drifted two shadows like specters, barely perceptible. The other sisters. Their forms were only as opaque as mist itself as they made their way toward her. Poli‘ahu watched, hardly daring to move. What was this all about? Perhaps they intended to chide her for her weakness, for failing once again to go after Pele.
But how was she to leave the mountain and risk confronting her in the lowlands? And after what she had accomplished up here …
Once, Lilinoe had called her sister. But then, was Pele the spirit’s true sister? Was Kapo?
“Are you … tired?” Lilinoe’s voice was a whisper, as always.
“Tired? It’s the middle of the night and you know well enough I have not the stamina I once possessed. The Flame Queen nearly killed me today.”
“Perhaps you are hungry, as well?” Kahoupokane asked.
Poli‘ahu spread her hands, not concealing her annoyance. Yes, she was exhausted, a little hungry, and growing bored.
Lilinoe flittered closer until her face practically brushed Poli‘ahu’s cheek. The spirit had no breath, but Poli‘ahu could feel the temperature drop in such close proximity to a Mist spirit. All such spirits dwelt, in their natural state, in Lua-o-Milu, the world of the goddess Milu. A frozen realm of ice and cold without warmth or life. It was a realm of the dead, and thus a realm of supreme knowledge and ultimate power—for those willing to pay the price.
“All limitations of a mortal form,” the Mist spirit whispered in her ear.
“What does that mean? Are you saying there’s a way I could obviate the need for sleep, for food?” Imagine what she could accomplish with that many more hours in her days. Instead of sleeping, she could dedicate every moment to perfecting her Art. She would become that much closer to reviving the lost arcana of the eras before the coming of the Worldsea. “Would I be able to slow my aging?” In losing her mana, she feared she would now age almost as quickly as any human.
“Slow it?” Lilinoe said. “Slow it … or stop it?”
Stop aging. “Immortality.” Poli‘ahu smiled. It was the elusive, unattainable secret all practitioners of the Art dreamed of. Legends spoke of ancient kings who had spent all the wealth of their nations in pursuit of such a treasure and not even come close. But Lilinoe seemed to be saying such a prize was real, that she knew the way to it.
“Yessss.”
“Live forever …” Kahoupokane said.
Our sister, Waiau added.
Sister, yes. These spirits were her sisters. She was no longer a child. And now they would help her attain immortality. All of her studies had brought her to this moment.
Why had she ever doubted them? Only … Something seemed off in the back of her mind.
A freezing wind tugged at her hair. A premonition … a growing … fear. “You do not begrudge me the power I lost?” Poli‘ahu hugged herself, realizing she was actually shaking with excitement that wanted to edge out her worry. “You know sorcery for such an achievement?”
“You need a sacrifice.”
Of course she did. Such powerful uses of the Art had to draw energy from somewhere. Part of the price would always be a life. The spirits she would have to call would need to be appeased, fed. Though, to be honest, she wished they would have told her such a thing before she climbed all the way back up the mountain. Now she’d have to go down again and demand an offering from one of the villages.
“Fine. In the morning, I’ll go find a criminal guilty of violating some tabu. We can do the ceremony tomorrow night.”
“No,” Lilinoe said.
Poli‘ahu frowned. Who else on Lua-o-Milu was she supposed to use?
But, then, of course, she knew.
A shudder seized her, and she dared back away a step, knowing she would never manage to escape the sisters. “You mean … me.”
Lilinoe drifted closer. She ran an icy finger over Poli‘ahu’s temple. “Shed your mortal form … and become like us, sister.”
A chill settled over her heart and she trembled in the wind. They wanted her to kill herself. That’s why they had met up here, at midnight, on the summit.
“Pleiades,” she said, struggling with the foreign name Pahulu had given her, gazing at Lilinoe. “Seven sisters descended of a great power. And the sorceresses of Old Mu called up their souls, made them queens again. Thought such might would allow them to win the war. But you wrought more destruction than even you imagined.”
“You understand.”
Poli‘ahu shivered despite herself. “You’re ghosts,” she
said. “Even though you escaped the destruction of Old Mu, you could not live forever.”
“Who does?” Lilinoe prompted.
“But your wrath would not abate and sustained you. You trained others, raised three successor Snow Queens. You … prompted one of the others to try dividing souls, just as you did with me and the ice hawks.”
“Kahoupokane,” Lilinoe acknowledged.
Poli‘ahu found the cold mountain air suddenly stung her throat. “Pieces of your soul, sent out into the world, drawing in mana, experience, growing strong. Giving rise to a new body you could inhabit when the soul became fused together once more.” She tried to swallow. “I …”
“Yes …”
“I … I’m a piece of you.”
So intently had she been watching Lilinoe, she had not realized Kahoupokane had departed. Only now, looking around, did she spot her, carving glyphs into the snow. It must have taken an enormous expenditure of Will for her to have even that much effect on the Mortal Realm without a human body or a human Will giving them force. The sisters were strong, replete with mana, but still … she risked much to so exert herself.
This was it.
Lilinoe planned for them to fuse their souls back together. Poli‘ahu had lost mana, and thus disappointed her mistress. Led her to give up on Poli‘ahu ever growing stronger.
“Can I even do so now?”
Lilinoe craned a misty finger toward Poli‘ahu. Toward the singing stone around her neck. “Drain it all. And we shall be whole. Stronger than any other Sorceress Queen.”
But if she had always been a part of Lilinoe, and she were to reunite with that soul, it would be … little different than if the Mist spirit had possessed her.
This was always the future before you, Waiau told her. It was the reality we have waited thousands of years to enact.
We? Waiau already saw herself as part of Lilinoe.
“What do you wait for?” Lilinoe asked. “Embrace me and live forever.”
Immortality. Except not really. She wasn’t going to live forever, but rather, be dead forever. Lilinoe would live again, and spill her power across Sawaiki. Maybe she would crush Pele and the others as Poli‘ahu had intended. Maybe she would even keep Poli‘ahu’s name, but it would not be her.
You will lose yourself … That was not Waiau, but Pahulu whispering in her mind.
But Pahulu was not to be trusted.
Lilinoe and she may have been sisters in another lifetime … In this lifetime, Lilinoe, Waiau, and Kahoupokane were Poli‘ahu’s sisters.
Yes … Waiau whispered in her mind.
The other two sisters had begun circling her, chanting, evoking. Preparing a spell that would end in suicide. End in immortality. Of a sort.
Why was her mind so foggy, so unclear?
Or take the more dangerous route …
Oh. Because, what if she refused? What if Poli‘ahu was the dominant personality?
Treachery! Waiau hissed.
Yes.
Treachery … their treachery against her.
Teeth gritted, Poli‘ahu fell back several steps out of the circle.
As if unbelieving, Lilinoe stared at her, then at Kahoupokane.
“Another failure … no ascension …” the other snow sister said.
A fresh wind whipped Poli‘ahu’s hair in front of her face.
“No.” Lilinoe’s voice held the authority. “I will have her, whether she submits or not.” Her hand fell on Poli‘ahu’s cheek, feeling almost solid. And it was cold, painfully cold, even to Poli‘ahu. She shuddered, trying to pull back, but the spirit’s hand was stuck to her face like a remora. Horrible, icy chills wracked her, sending her to her knees. The spirit wasn’t chilling her, she was sucking out Poli‘ahu’s warmth, and with it what remained of her mana, her very life. Perhaps preparing to feast upon her soul.
Poli‘ahu wanted to laugh and weep at the same time. Despite her decision not to acquiesce to them, she was going to die anyway. No matter what choice she had made up here, Lilinoe had had no intention of letting her come down this mountain.
The cold had already spread up her arms and legs, reaching toward her torso. Soon, her heart would freeze. And this would be over, finished like a bad dream.
It had to be a dream. Her sisters could not have so betrayed her. They had loved her, raised her. Had they not? She couldn’t even really remember her real parents—just fragments. Memories she had thought were easily traded.
Had the sisters always intended this to be the end?
It seemed an impossible lie.
That all these years of training, the semblance of sisterhood, the intimation of a bond, all were a facade to lead her here. To lead her to oblivion and subservience.
She had spent decades training in the Art, becoming a master of it, giving away pieces of herself, for this. For this. She meant nothing to the snow sisters unless she was what they wanted her to be. All her practice with her gifts and with her sorcery—it amounted to nothing. Sorcery and war. She had ignored everything else, cast aside love and family and memories, let the years slip by without a passing glance. And if that now meant nothing … The sum of her life was less than nothing.
Death was a just reward for wasted decades.
And yet, she did not want to die.
Poli‘ahu screamed in agony, defiance, and frustration. And Lilinoe but laughed at her.
That icy, alien laughter should have frozen her with terror. Would have a normal person pissing herself and begging the ‘aumākua for protection. In Poli‘ahu, however, it only served to compound her anger. Was she a joke to the sisters?
No. She was not going to die here, not give in to these spirits. She gave over trying to fight her violent trembles or the creeping cold. Instead, she grasped the singing stone and drew upon its mana. Forced her Will upon Waiau.
Kahoupokane started. “Watch that she doesn’t—”
You cannot make me—
Poli‘ahu’s form broke apart and became mist.
Waiau wailed in shock, frustration at having her power used against her Will.
Poli‘ahu flung herself into the wind and allowed it to carry her away. She could not hide from the sisters. But she could flee, retreat and hope her mana lasted long enough to get her to dawn, when their powers would be weaker.
At the moment, though, daylight seemed lifetimes away.
40
Days Gone
A chill sweat drenched Poli‘ahu, plastering her hair to her face. Ninole had grown worse still, her breathing shallow. The sweat on her had grown cold too, and Poli‘ahu had no idea whether cooling would do any good. This should have worked. As badly as her spell had been disrupted, still the Moon spirit had turned the baby, given it fresh strength. And yet, the mother’s strength had begun to give out.
Ninole’s screams had given way to whimpers. Despite all the sorcery Poli‘ahu had worked, the woman was going to die.
“I can see the crown,” the midwife repeated for the third time. This time, her voice held more pleading than excitement. As if to say they were so close. So close. Ninole could not give up now.
But Poli‘ahu could see it on the pregnant woman’s face. She had given up, or at least given out. Her energy was spent.
“Not now,” Poli‘ahu mumbled. Not after all this. “You cannot give up.”
She placed a hand on Ninole’s forehead. The woman shut her eyes.
Damn it, she was not going to let this happen. If only she had some way to … to give. That was her final option, wasn’t it?
“Watch her,” she said, then pulled slightly aside and sat on the floor.
Ninole needed a little more strength. Just a little more power, more mana. Poli‘ahu was overflowing with mana, but there was no easy way to transfer it to the other woman. The usual means, sex or the consumption of her flesh, were not exactly practical. That left her only indirect, dangerous routes.
Waiau could do this … But Poli‘ahu had to get this exactly right, and the Mist sp
irit was going to need more than a simple call. She would need a catalyst for something like this. She shook her head.
“I need a sacrifice.”
“What?”
“Find the chief! I need a sacrifice, a living being, now!”
Ninole’s sister dashed outside toward the luau, eyes wide. She had probably never seen anyone save a chief or kahuna offer a sacrifice. Probably didn’t want to see it. But some things were necessary.
Palm open, Poli‘ahu formed a razor-sharp icicle in her hand. Her hands and arms were still wet with blood from the last spirit’s attack. This time, though, she would be calling a spirit that didn’t intend her particular harm. She blew out a long breath, steeling herself against the pain that must surely come next. She began to trace Waiau’s glyph into the flesh of her thigh. The wound immediately blossomed with her blood and the pain made her want to look away. Of course, she couldn’t cut so precise a mark without seeing her work.
“Waiau,” she chanted, over and over, intermixing the spirit’s name with entreaties.
At first nothing happened. Then mist began to drift in through the hut’s open doorway, suffusing the house and pooling in the corners. Poli‘ahu looked into Pō to see the spirit.
“I need to transfer some of my mana into this woman.”
The voice, when it answered, was slow, thick, and seemed to come from all around the house. “Death draws near.”
The midwife flung herself into the dirt, covering her head and muttering prayers to the ‘aumākua.
While it was unlikely the woman could actually hear the spirit, she must have felt it as an indecipherable whisper. Either way, Poli‘ahu could not afford the distraction. “Shut up!” She looked into the mist. “I know death is here. I’ll give it a different offering.”
Where in Lua-o-Milu was Ninole’s damn sister?
Poli‘ahu had only just risen when the woman returned, along with a warrior shoving a man before him. The victim was bound with a harsh rope that had clearly been tied with great haste.
“We couldn’t find Chief Aiwohi,” she said. “But the warriors offered this slave.”